Seduction Series - Annabelle

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a married model goes a step too far.
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The 'Seduction Series' is based on fantasies shared with me by some of my female readers, who—after reading my Mistress series—have allowed me to know their innermost thoughts. Each story has one thing in common — the illicit sexual temptation of a reluctant and yet vulnerable woman.

The theme of this particular tale is the seduction of a married woman, with interracial undertones. I hope you enjoy.

Seduction Series: Annabelle

Annabelle checked one dress after another from her wardrobe, held them against her body and then replaced them.

"What do you think," she asked her husband each time.

Luke wasn't much help. He liked them all, but she was seeking that difficult combination of understated sexiness. She had attended a few photo shoots in her part-time career as a model, but they had all been small-time and this out-of-the-blue opportunity was the chance to take a couple of steps up.

If she was successful, it would change her life.

Eventually, she held the yellow sundress against her body for the third time and slowly nodded her head. This was the one.

"I think it works," she smiled, checking herself in the long mirror and turning this way and that before eventually nodding again.

"You look sensational," Luke growled, taking a step towards her.

He reached out to take the dress from her and draped it over the chair beside them, before stepping behind her and taking her in his arms.

"But I like this look better..."

Annabelle laughed, leaning back into his body as she glanced at their reflections in the mirror. He'd been turned on ever since he'd seen her come out of the bathroom wearing just the pink and black half cup bra and matching thong. It was the first time she'd worn her new lingerie. The bra accentuated the fullness of her large breasts and allowed a good deal of cleavage to escape over the top. She had no idea what lay ahead at the audition, but wanted to make sure she looked her best in any circumstances.

"I know that look," she said to him over her shoulder.

"Look? What look?" he asked, reaching his arms underneath hers and cupping her breasts through the bra.

"The one that says you'd like to fuck my brains out..."

If she'd had time, Annabelle would have let him. She'd been aroused from the moment she'd woken up this morning, thinking about the day ahead. The chances of her succeeding were small—God knows how many women they were auditioning in total—but still, she had to have a chance, didn't she?

In just his white boxers, she could feel Luke's hardness pushing into her ass. Her husband had a great body, hard and athletic, with pecs honed in the gym. Physically, they were a perfect match for each other. Their attitudes and interests were in harmony, too, and the extra money she could earn from a successful modelling career would more than resolve their money problems.

"We don't have time," she protested, as he pushed his hands under the cups of her bra.

It was a weak objection. Her nipples were already erect under his rotating palms and she felt herself grow hotter as he squeezed her flesh.

"Well, not to fuck," she moaned, swinging around to face him.

Despite herself, she was already sliding her body downwards, yanking his boxers down his thighs as she sank to her knees.

Both hands went to his hard butt, her fingers holding him steady as her tongue swirled around his thick girth. God, she so loved cock! She always had, ever since giving head to her first boyfriend in the back row of the local cinema that first time. How many blow jobs had she given since then, she wondered?

With a grin to herself, she eased him into the back of her throat. One of her hands cradled his testicles and the other wrapped itself around the root of his cock. The way he groaned under her touch always gave her shivers.

She masterfully worked him, knowing she didn't have long but determined to make the most of what she had. When he tried to rest his hands in her dark locks, she shook them away. She'd spent an hour on her hair earlier this morning and wouldn't have time to work on it again.

It took a while, but eventually he began to succumb to her talented mouth. Guys always did. In other circumstances, she might have pulled off him and let him quickly fuck her at this point, but that might take the edge off her performance during the photoshoot. It could wait...

Her long fingernails dug into his asscheeks as she began to suck him harder. He was doing his best to hold his orgasm at bay, but they both knew he was fighting a losing battle. She sucked him for thirty more seconds more until his balls began to tighten and she whimpered to herself as she caught the first blast of cum in her slippery mouth. Her graceful fingers stroked his cock as he erupted, again and again, milking him as she swallowed every drop he had.

It was only when he had nothing left that she released him and grinned upwards.

"When I get back home later," she rasped, "you'd better be prepared to give me the fuck of my life..."

———

The taxi pulled up outside an impressive looking building, a cut above those used in the normal photo shoots that Annabelle had previously undertaken. She raised her eyebrows as the driver told her the fare—was travelling to Croydon really that expensive? Maybe she should have taken the car after all, but then she'd have been worried about traffic, getting lost, being late.

Maybe he'd accept a blow job in payment, she wickedly chuckled to herself. After all, she was still feeling turned on from her quick encounter with Luke. The feel of her husband's thick cock in her mouth still lingered, as did the salty aftertaste of his cum. But she knew her arousal was a good sign.

If she channeled it correctly, it would help her produce the sort of performance required from her infront of the camera.

The thought only reinforced how important the shoot was to her, to them. Moving into the big time would substantially increase her earnings and they desperately needed the extra cash. Not only that, she had dreamt of a career as a model ever since she'd been a little girl. She'd never get a better chance...

The clean white foyer was surprisingly empty, with only a directional sign indicating the location of the reception. The heavy lift took her up three floors and opened directly into a spacious reception area. The redhead behind the small desk looked like she could have been a model herself, rather than a receptionist. Annabelle's breath caught in her throat. Was that the standard she'd have to compete with? If all the women working here were this hot, what would their models be like?

"Annabelle?" the woman asked, shooting her the brightest of smiles. "I'm Judy. You're expected. Follow me, sweetheart."

She dutifully followed the redhead through a door across from the desk and along a narrow corridor. Judy kept glancing over her shoulder, making idle conversation until they entered what appeared to be a small ante room.

"Wine?" she asked, not waiting for an answer as she picked up a bottle of Beaujolais from the glass table in the corner and poured a glass.

"For confidence," she chuckled, nodding towards the small black sofa. "I know how nerve racking these things can be. Not that you should be nervous."

"I shouldn't?" Annabelle said, taking a seat as directed and then sipping at the drink.

"No way," the redhead laughed, leaning back against the wall.

She folded her tanned arms beneath her apple-sized breasts as she continued.

"You're gorgeous. Bruno can be notoriously difficult to please, but you'll knock him out. You're just his type, believe me."

The encouraging words gave Annabelle mixed feelings. A couple of the photographers she'd worked with in the past had told her the same thing, but it turned out that all they'd been interested in was trying to persuade her to pose in the nude. Not that she was ashamed of her body, far from it. But they would have needed to pay her a lot more than they were willing to offer.

"What's he like?" she asked, taking another drink.

"Good question, sweetheart," Judy acknowledged, refilling her glass.

Had she really drunk that much already? She'd have to watch that. She was already feeling horny enough without adding alcohol to the mix.

"As a photographer, he's a pain in the ass," the redhead laughed. "He's abrupt, rude, and he'll push you as hard as he can. Oh yes, and he'll never appear satisfied. But that's all designed to get you to produce your best. He's the best in the business and he'll make sure you dig deep to give him what he wants."

"That's okay by me," Annabelle smiled, taking a longer sip of wine. "I guess I'll just need plenty of this then..."

Judy laughed with her.

"It always helps," she said with a chuckle, as she topped up Annabelle's glass again. "My advice is just to leave your inhibitions at the door and go for it. What happens in the studio remains in the studio. You're here to produce your hottest performance. Just focus on that."

Annabelle took a deep breath and nodded. Her session with Luke, combined with the wine the redhead had plied her with, had given her an extra surge of sexual adrenalin. If this Bruno was looking for something hot, then she was up for that. She knew she had a fabulous body, so why not use it?

———

The small dressing room was practically empty except for a couple of small items of furniture and a long rack with two string bikinis hanging from it.

These were what she'd be wearing? No way!

"Choose either outfit, sweetheart," Judy had told her, and then paused at the door on her way out. "When you're changed, just head out of the door on the other side of the room. Good luck."

With that, she'd blown her a kiss and left her to it.

Annabelle felt her nerves return as soon as the door closed behind the redhead and she was alone. This was it, she told herself—the Big Time. It was her chance to make Luke proud, to pay off their debts and reshape their lives. That meant giving the opportunity everything she had.

The cream bikini with the delicate gold lace-work on the straps looked as if it might provide a little more protection than the red number. And yet as she adjusted the skimpy material over her full breasts, her reflection in the mirror confirmed that it left very little to the imagination.

She'd never worn anything this tiny even on the beach.

She pulled her dark hair onto the top of her head as she studied herself, and then let it fall back as she took a deep breath. Could she do this? She just had to. The only consolation was that the sight of her in this outfit didn't inspire the photographer then he wouldn't be human.

"Okay, Bruno," she muttered to herself as, heart pounding, she walked through the door Judy had indicated. "Get ready to be wowed."

———

The studio was much smaller than she'd expected. Coincidentally, so was the photographer. The fearsome Bruno was maybe five feet tall—surely no more—as slim as a rake, with tattoos covering most of the arms left exposed by his sleeveless white vest top. Annabelle nervously stepped forward, ready to introduce herself, but he was in no mood for formalities.

"Flaunt it," he barked, clicking off a series of shots without warning.

Shit. He had started already? She wasn't prepared.

"Pay attention," he snapped, dropping the camera to his waist when she hesitated. "Walk across the room. Then back. Look sexy. Think sexy."

Judy's words came back to her. The redhead had warned her about Bruno's rudeness and she wasn't going to be cowed by his impatience.

She arched her back as she hurriedly followed his instruction, thrusting her tits forward with each step. Her nipples that couldn't get any harder somehow did get even harder with each click of his camera. Bruno couldn't fail to notice them pushing through the thin material. That's better, she told herself.

Work it...

The photographer's camera was never more than a few feet away throughout her slow walk around the room. He allowed her to circle it a couple of times before he held up a hand and called a halt to the action.

Annabelle turned towards him, waiting for his praise, and yet inexplicably his sour expression suggested that he wasn't happy.

"Do you know the meaning of the word sexy," he spat out venomously.

His clipped Eastern European accent was so thick it was difficult to catch every word. But the meaning was clear. His narrow eyes stared right through her.

"We try again," he snapped. "Stand tall. Put your right hand on your hips..."

He clicked off a few more shots as Annabelle did exactly as asked.

"One leg in front of the other..."

More shots.

"Your left hand in your hair..."

He changed angle this time, crouching low to gain a different perspective.

"Bruno wants sexy," he told her, barking out the words. "Sexy! Do you understand?"

He continued to fire off shot after shot as Annabelle hurriedly obeyed each instruction. But how could she give her best when he was so clearly unhappy with her? From the way he looked at her and spat out his instructions, it seemed as if everything she did, every pose she made, was wrong.

He stood facing her now, that imposing face full of thunder.

"Listen to what Bruno wants," he snapped, his clipped accent even more pronounced. "Bruno wants attitude. Bruno wants sex. Feel it, feel it inside. Show me how you feel when you want to fuck."

His casual use of that most basic of words sent her libido higher. Couldn't the diminutive photographer sense the need inside her? Surely he could see that her need for sex was written all over face? It was seeping out of her pores. Her encounter with Luke, the wine, and her near-nakedness in front of this aggressive stranger had all combined to increase her arousal.

Why couldn't he see that?

"Enough for now," he snapped after another fifteen minutes of shots. "Take a break. But understand I want more from you with Winston..."

The words stopped her in her tracks. Winston? Who was Winston? No-one had said about another model being involved. And yet, even as the thought was passing through her mind, the door to the studio opened again.

Wesley Snipes, eat your heart out...

———

Winston was tall and toned with rich, ebony skin. In short, he was an ebony bodied Adonis. And he had a huge cock. It was impossible to miss the African model's large endowment in those tight-fitting red shorts.

Annabelle hadn't even had time to catch her breath. As soon as she'd changed into the red string bikini and returned to the studio, Bruno was clicking off more shots. He instantly threw the two models together, seemingly taking delight in draping their semi-naked bodies against one another.

"Better," he enthused, with each click of his camera.

Suddenly the whole atmosphere had changed. Annabelle knew from previous shoots that sex was always in the air in a studio. She'd also learned that the trick was not to be fazed by it. But how could she remain cool when her body was already burning, and now this African's erection was pressing into her ass.

Bruno had positioned Winston behind her, his arms wrapped around her body as he rested his lips on the side of her neck. She could feel the hard flesh of his manhood throb against her taut backside. Like herself, the model had shaved himself clean and the smooth effect it had on her was surreal.

"Perfect, perfect..." Bruno encouraged in that Eastern-European accent as he clicked away.

At last, he seemed to be happier with what he was getting. As intimate as each successive pose was becoming, Annabelle told herself to just go with the flow. If the diminutive photographer was happy, then so was she. Besides, what over-sexed, already-aroused young woman wouldn't be happy when she had an oversized black dick continuously rubbing against her?

Bruno was constantly on the move, crouching low to get shots from below, and standing on a step ladder for shots from above. With each new pose, he upped the ante, placing Annabelle's fingers on Winston's muscular chest, telling her to feel his muscles, and then redirecting her hands onto the African's strong thighs. By the time he called another break, she was ready to melt.

But before she knew it, he was calling the two of them back into action again. Everything was happening so fast that her head was getting fuzzier by the second and she was beginning to wish she'd stayed off the wine earlier—especially when the diminutive photographer upped the ante.

"Sit in that lounger, Winston," he barked. "And Annabelle, I want you to sit in his lap ... no, the other way. Facing him."

It wasn't just her sex that began to tingle as she straddled Winston's impressive black torso. It was the whole of her body. Perhaps she should have fucked Luke this morning, after all? Her body wouldn't be reacting this way if she had, would it? If it wasn't for her skimpy thong and his thin red shorts, the African model's humungous cock would practically be inside her now.

Perspiration broke out on her forehead as she tried to follow Bruno's instructions and smile shamelessly at Winston. It wasn't difficult to give the photographer the wanton expression he was demanding. The African's beautifully high cheekbones and large, expressive eyes were difficult to resist, but then so was the barely concealed monster he was still rubbing against her.

This was supposed to be an audition, wasn't it, not a porn shoot?

If Luke could see her now he'd go crazy. The diminutive photographer had Winston cupping her tits and her nipples had practically come alive in his large palms. She'd worked with other male models before, but never as intimately as this. The only consolation was that Bruno—at long last—seemed satisfied.

"Think sex," he was repeating, over and over. "Think fucking. Make him want you. All men want you..."

Annabelle closed her eyes as her imagination went into overdrive. Winston did want her, and all she had to do was drag those red shorts down his muscular thighs and he would probably take her there and then. But he wasn't the only one. She knew of at least a couple of Luke's friends who wanted her, too. She'd always been able to see it in their eyes when she met them.

Come to think of it, her brother-in-law also had the hots for her. She had accidentally walked in on Gary when he'd just emerged from the shower, the last time that he and Elise had stayed with them. She'd thought he was in the garden with Luke and her sister. His cock had looked wonderful as it swung between his thighs and when he'd dropped his hand to it and began to stroke himself while she watched, she hadn't been able to contain herself....

Okay, nobody said she'd been the perfect wife. But giving your brother-in-law a blow job didn't actually constitute unfaithfulness, did it?

"Enough," Bruno was suddenly telling them, and her thoughts began to fade as she returned to the moment. "That's enough."

Thank goodness for that, Annabelle told herself. It was a photoshoot she would remember for a long time and she was so horny she would have to relieve herself in the dressing room as soon as she left the set. And if her husband thought he was going to get any sleep tonight, he'd need to think again. They would be fucking for England when she returned home.

But it appeared that it was only Winston who was being allowed to leave the room. Bruno was holding up a brown bottle he'd produced from somewhere.

"Oil," he snapped at Annabelle. "One more session and then we're finished. But I want you oiled."

———

At first, she wasn't quite sure what the photographer meant—well, she was, and she wasn't—but when he placed his camera on the table and stepped towards her, it became clearer.

He placed her with her back to the white wooden wall and told her to arch her body as he unscrewed the top. Holding the bottle high above her breasts, he allowed the liquid to splash down onto the upslope of her tits, bouncing and slithering erotically across her flesh.

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